by Regina Duke
A man interrupted her. “Excuse me.”
Vicky turned her anger in his direction, her lips set in a tight line, ready to lambast him for daring to interrupt her.
She was not ready for the sight that met her eyes. It was the male model she’d noticed earlier, the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He was taller than her by a head. His hypnotic brown eyes were darker at the edges than near the iris. He had a perfect nose, a light tan, and his dark sun-streaked hair was brushed straight back with careless waves tumbling over the tops of his ears. His sensitive mouth was movie star quality. He had a barely visible five o’clock shadow and the hint of a cleft in his strong chin.
Vicky’s anger drained away, replaced by an irrational desire to run her fingers through the stranger’s hair. She gazed up at him, mouth open.
His voice was a perfect match for the rest of him, silken and deep, with a hint of a rugged edge. “Did you say you’re a pianist?”
Vicky nodded dumbly.
“I think I’m here for you.”
Vicky’s knees wobbled and deep inside, a tiny band of butterflies played the Hallelujah Chorus. She cleared her throat and tossed her head.
“And you are…?”
“Jason Darby. Your friend had car trouble. I’ve been sent in her place. I take it you need a ride to Eagle’s Toe?”
Vicky nodded a third time, then realized she was beginning to resemble a marionette. “Thank you. I’m Vicky Winn. I just need to resolve this luggage problem.”
She watched his perfect mouth twist with annoyance. “It sounds like that situation is well in hand. The airline will bring it to you in the morning. If you don’t mind, I’ve been standing around looking for you for half an hour, and I’d like to get going. Shall we retrieve your instrument case?” The baggage carousel was turning again, as passengers straggled in from the latest flight.
Vicky had always known that any man who looked that good had to be too good to be true, and he had just proven it for her. He was impatient. “Fine.” The syllable was clipped and cold. “Let’s go.”
A flicker of humor softened his features. “You should probably give the lady your friend’s address before we leave.”
Vicky’s mouth opened, then closed. Then opened. “Rats. I didn’t bother to ask Madlyn for her address. I thought she’d be picking me up.” She pulled her phone out of her purse.
Now the perfect mouth was sarcastic. “You don’t know your friend’s address?”
“I haven’t seen her since high school. Back then we just walked to each other’s houses, we didn’t mail letters to each other.”
Jason took a long, slow breath. “Just call her.”
Vicky punched the screen and held the phone to her ear. Several seconds passed. “She’s not answering. She has an irritating habit of turning her phone off when she’s not using it.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He took a business card out of his pocket and jotted something on the back. Then he addressed the baggage clerk. “Ma’am? Please have the suitcase delivered to this address.”
The clerk glanced at the card, then up at Jason. “I’d be happy to, Mr. Darby. Welcome back to Colorado.”
Jason flashed her a smile. “Thanks.”
Vicky felt the heat of that smile from the side, and she wondered if the baggage clerk was blinded by it. Evidently not, since she could still see to type the address into her computer.
Stop it, Victoria! You’re mad at the whole male species. Don’t let this one’s good looks rattle your brain.
Jason waved a hand in the direction of the baggage carousel. “After you.”
Vicky pulled her instrument case to the edge of the carousel and hefted it over the rim. The case was five feet long, fourteen inches wide, and ten inches deep. The whole thing was enclosed in a black canvas bag that contained a zippered compartment for a minimal metal piano stand. All together, it weighed about eighty pounds, nearly two-thirds of Vicky’s body weight.
She managed to lower it gently onto its wheels before her purse slipped off her shoulder and kerplunked onto the floor. When she turned to pick it up, the instrument case scooted on its wheels and whacked Jason in the shins.
“I’m so sorry.” She straightened up to apologize, then turned the other way to reach for her purse. This time the case whacked him in the calf.
Jason took control of the instrument case. “Have you registered this thing as a deadly weapon?”
“Very funny. Ha. Ha. Where’s your car?” She followed him outside to the Jaguar. “You must be joking.”
Jason didn’t reply.
She pulled the passenger door open. It bounced against the buckle of her purse.
“Be careful,” snapped Jason. He ran a hand over the paint where the door hit her purse. Satisfied, he said, “Go ahead. Get in.”
Vicky was miserable. Not only did he not want to be helping her, he was obsessed with his car. She’d met men like that before. He probably spent the weekends polishing it to a high shine, drinking beer and eating hot wings.
Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten all day. She slid into the passenger seat, hoping he hadn’t heard the gurgling.
“Okay, genius,” she grumbled. “Where do we put the piano?”
“Spread your legs.”
“What?!”
Jason spoke very slowly as if explaining to a child. “You’ll have to hold the case between your knees until we get to Eagle’s Toe. It obviously will not fit any other way.”
Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Vicky angled her knees outward, never so grateful for her decision to wear pants. Jason lifted the case and placed it gently on the floorboard between her feet. Vicky wrapped her arms around it.
“Seat belt,” he barked.
She fastened it. Her purse was jammed between her ankle and the door. As Jason got behind the wheel and backed out of the parking place, her phone rang. She managed to lean forward just enough for her fingers to reach it. Since Jason seemed intent on ignoring her presence, she thumbed the screen. A glance told her that it was the same number that had called six times before. Well, she might as well tell Darius to go to hell or he would keep pestering her. She took the call.
“Oh, hi, Mr. Armand. Yes, I know I still owe you for the rent, but—” She paused while her landlord chattered. “What? Oh, no, really? But—” She frowned, trying to catch every word. “But that’s not fair. That’s—” She felt a ball of lead settle in her midsection. “Fine. Sure. Right.” She ended the call without saying goodbye and stared straight ahead, blinking back tears.
Jason asked, “Bad news?”
Vicky fought for control. Her looming problem had become an awful reality. She refused to show her feelings to this stranger. Summoning all the sarcasm at her disposal, she quipped bitterly, “No suitcase, no clothes, no boyfriend. And now I’m officially homeless. What a perfect day.”
CHAPTER SIX
Jason held his tongue after Vicky’s revelation. She had obviously had a miserable few days. He decided that silence was the kindest remedy at the moment. She didn’t need someone prying into her situation. But he couldn’t help but wonder what she was like when the world was not falling down around her ears.
Once they reached Eagle’s Toe, he asked her for directions to her friend’s house. She seemed embarrassed when she confessed she was lost. With a flash of inspiration, Jason drove to the high school.
“You said you used to walk home from school together, right? Does this help?”
Vicky seemed relieved. “Yes, thank you. Take that next left. I remember now.” And she directed him through a middle class neighborhood to an older home that had obviously been cared for over the years. The garden was tidy, the paint was fresh.
“I don’t see a car. Do you think your friend is here?”
“She will be, as soon as they finish with her at the garage. I can wait.”
“You sure? It’s getting dark and it’s already cold.”
“I’ll be fine.” She pushed
open the door of the Jag, but she couldn’t move the instrument case from a seated position.
Jason suppressed a smile. He got out and lifted the case so she could exit the car.
“What about my suitcase?”
“The airline will deliver it to my place in the morning. I’ll make sure you get it.”
“All right, then. Thank you for your help.” She extended a hand.
Jason took it and gave it a gentle shake. He admired her stoic attitude in the face of what must have been a disastrous week. She was still wearing her sunglasses, and he had a burning desire to know what color her eyes were. He cleared his throat.
“Don’t forget to take your sunglasses off. You don’t want to trip on the steps.”
“Oh. Thanks.” She lifted them gracefully and settled them on top of her beret. “You’ve been very kind.”
Jason’s lips twitched in a smile. Emerald green. Her eyes were stunning. “Well, I should be going. I still have an appointment to make.” He hesitated, then lifted the case and carried it up the four steps to the porch and set it by the front door. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”
Vicky nodded. “Madlyn will be here any minute.”
“All right, then. I’ll be going.” He returned to the Jag, got in and backed out of the driveway. His last glimpse showed him a very worried young woman, wringing her hands and pacing beneath the porch light.
He turned the corner and headed for the much more affluent neighborhood where his grandmother’s mansion was located.
Twenty minutes later, he stood in the center of the entry hall and did a slow spin. No family photos, no personal touches of any kind. Bare white walls and cold white marble with gray veins that used to make him think the stone was alive. But he was just a child then. His memories from before the accident were fainter every year, but he could remember a time when the hall was bright with color and art, filled with framed family portraits, and ringing with the sounds of music.
Today it could be the entry to an empty mansion, waiting to be shown by some real estate agent. No personality, no love. Just emptiness. It had looked like this every summer he’d come back to spend with Dolores. Once he turned twenty-one, those visits had shrunk down to a weekend here and there. Over the last four years, he’d seen very little of her.
His grandmother’s voice floated down from the top of the double staircase. “You made it. I knew you would. Large sums of money are often a great motivator.”
Only the Coach’s admonishment kept him from walking out at that very moment. He controlled his impulses and spoke calmly. “You called and I came, Grandmother. What can I do for you?”
“Oh, that’s a very nice touch.” Dolores Darby’s voice had a tremor that Jason hadn’t noticed before. But then, she was getting older. She looked regal, as always, looking down from on high. Her clothing resembled a costume from a different era.
Jason had a flash of memory, watching an old western on TV with—could it have been his grandmother? The outfit she was wearing reminded him of that movie. Who was the actress? Ah, yes, Katharine Hepburn. Was the tremor part of the costume?
“What’s a nice touch, Grandmother?”
“Offering to do something for me.” She descended the stairs carefully, mindful of the banister and her footing.
Jason experienced a genuine twinge of sadness. She was definitely deteriorating in some way. He waited for her to finish her descent. He knew there was an elevator tucked away under the right-hand staircase, and he was sure she was choosing the stairs to make an impression on him.
When she reached the bottom, she inclined her head to a room at the front of the house. “Let’s chat in the parlor.”
Nothing had changed there either, except for a fine coat of dust on the picture frames. Dolores’ vision must be going because she had never allowed such sloppy housekeeping by the staff. The tall windows that looked out over the circular driveway were heavily draped, giving this room its own version of gloom.
Dolores settled on a tall upholstered chair. “Sit down, Jason, and at least pretend you are happy to see me.”
Jason sat on the end of a tapestried love seat, rested his elbows on his knees, and gazed somberly at Dolores. “Uncle Jerry died this week. When you called me two days ago, I was attending his funeral.”
A flicker of compassion disturbed the stony resolve of Dolores’ features. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know he played a large role in your life.”
Jason spread his hands. “That’s it? You’re sorry to hear about it? He was the closest thing I had to a father for the last fifteen years. It’s hard for me to leave Aunt Grace alone right now. But you requested my presence, and I’m here. So I ask again, what can I do for you, Grandmother?”
Dolores raised one brow and leaned back in her chair. “Ah, I see you’ve grown into a man while I wasn’t looking. Very nice. All right. Here’s what you can do for me. You can get married, the sooner the better. Your uncle wasn’t the only person with health issues. I want you in a good marriage before I hand over the reins of the family fortune.”
Jason stared, speechless, at his grandmother. At last, he said, “Is that all?”
“Don’t be flippant. It’s a legitimate request. In fact, it is now a stipulation in my will. You must marry before the end of the year or forfeit your inheritance.”
“It’s the last week of October. You expected to blindside me with this demand.”
“I suppose you could call it that.”
“You think I have no recourse but to bend to your will.” If Jason had learned anything from his detached grandmother during their infrequent visits, it was the art of emotional control, at least while in her presence. He learned early on that she delighted in tormenting him to get an emotional reaction which she could then use as an excuse to berate him. “I assume your lawyers have used airtight language.”
Dolores seemed to be enjoying their icy badinage. “They told me I could require you to marry, but they thought inserting the name of a specific woman might endanger the document if you took me to court.”
“Oh, did they, now? And you have a woman in mind?”
“Well, a mere suggestion. That is, with the deadline looming, it seems only fair to provide you with a suitable choice, should you opt to comply with my wishes. A woman with a good head for business. Someone from a good family with good breeding.”
“You’ve picked a rich heiress for me to marry.” Cool on the outside, boiling mad on the inside.
“Yes, although her family’s fortunes are in a downturn at the moment.” Dolores’ lips curled in a tiny smile.
Jason braced for the crash, expecting the cold smile to break her face and send her lips, nose, and cheeks cascading to the floor. As a boy, he’d always imagined a real smile capable of destroying her. But then, this was just a hint of a self-satisfied smirk. That hardly counted.
Dolores continued, “She’ll be at the Ball.”
Jason could hear his uncle Jerry’s voice as if the man were standing in the room. Think of all the good you can do with that money. He stood up. “You can count on me to fulfill your requirement of marrying before the end of the year, Grandmother. But you’d better tell your heiress to find a date, because I’m bringing my fiancée to the party.” He turned on his heel and left.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Vicky sat on the porch steps and waited for Madlyn. The sun was down and the first stars were visible overhead. She tucked her sunglasses into her purse. Her thoughts drifted to Jason and she humphed to herself.
“Totally self-involved,” she muttered. “Just like Darius.” She made a face. “Is that why I’m attracted to him?”
She didn’t really believe that. After all, she’d found him attractive the first moment she laid eyes on him. That hair, swept back like some foreign movie star, belied his American English. The baggage clerk had said “Welcome home.” So he was obviously from the area. And those eyes, carrying so many feelings at once. Too bad it was a combination of annoy
ance, impatience, and...and what?
Vicky stood up and began pacing again. Was it sadness she saw in his eyes? She hadn’t done anything to make him sad. For that matter, she hadn’t done anything to annoy him either, at least as far as she knew. So he had to be sad and annoyed because of other people.
Could he have a dastardly ex, too? Or even worse, a wife making his life miserable?
She sat on the white porch swing and gave herself a push. Why was it worse to think he had a wife?
“Don’t be an idiot,” she mumbled. “If he’s married, he’s not available. Not that I care. Men are pigs, and Darius is the number one swine of all time.” She sighed heavily. If only her love life was the only problem. She’d been broke before, in college, but back then she had a dorm room and a meal plan to fall back on. And her school friends always seemed to include her in their outings. Everyone covered for everyone else, and when she had money, she did the same for them. But how could she be out of school, supposedly an adult, and be this stone cold broke? And now, thanks to Mr. Armand, she was homeless, too. No money, no room to go home to, and, thanks to Darius, her mother had paid Vicky’s competition entry fee for no good reason. Well, heartbreak was some kind of reason, but Vicky doubted that her mother would consider it a good one. And at some point, she would have to face the dark possibility that—
“Hey, you!” Madlyn waved from the window of her car as she pulled into the driveway. She practically tumbled out of her little red Honda. “What’s with the black and white look? Are you mourning your relationship?” She looked horrified.
Vicky pulled the beret off and stood up to greet her friend. “Black and white is what I wear to competitions,” she said. “It matches the piano. After a while, I just ended up with all black and white in my wardrobe.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” said Madlyn, clumping up the stairs. “I was afraid you were actually depraved enough to regret losing Darius.” Her red hair was as frizzy as ever but she was wearing it much shorter these days. Her pale gray eyes looked twice their normal size behind her thick lenses. As usual she was all fuss and flash, but she had the warmest heart Vicky had ever known, and she was the perfect best friend.